Frozen Skies
by Sanglante Melodie
Summary: A hero was a broken man indeed. But even in death, Cloud could not escape. Send back in time by the Planet, he could not seat back and let history repeat itself. Time travel, SxC, ZxA
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **My first thought when I decided to write this story was: 'I can't believe I am doing this.' Despite numerous attempts of talking myself out of it, I still found myself in front of the computer and typing away. So here am I, jumped the band wagon and quite happy with doing it. Anyways, this fic is born of one too many time travel fics mixed with my twisted imagination. It didn't help that I was reading/watching Ai no Kusabi on the side. It's rated M for a reason, so don't like don't read. Oh, and reviews please.

**Title: **_Frozen Skies_**  
><strong>**Chapters:** 1 of ?  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> Sephiroth/Cloud, Zack/Aerith, and others  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> AU, time travel, slash/yaoi, non-con/dub-con, and the rest...  
><strong>Summary:<strong> A hero was a broken man indeed. But even in death, Cloud could not escape. Send back in time by the Planet, he could not seat back and let history repeat itself.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own anything. I just like to torture the characters.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

As the defeaters of evil and defenders of innocents, heroes were necessities to the balance of humankind. The elders praised them for their benevolence and the youth idolized them for their prowess. They were legends immortalized by the tales woven by time. Almost no one realized the fates of heroes only brought pain. 'Hero' was not synonymous with frame or glory. Instead, the life of a hero was full of heartbreak and sacrifices. A destiny doomed with loneliness from the start. They sought change, perhaps brought it, and along the way they stained their hands with blood—leaving rivers of red in their wake. In the end no matter how much they gained from their deeds, nothing could make up for what was lost in the name of greater good.

A hero was a broken man indeed.

Cloud Strife knew that fact well—too well in fact. Once upon a time he would have felt some anger towards fate, but not anymore. He was simply too numb to care. Besides, there was not much left beyond his gilded prison. Curled into a fetal position on the silken bed, he let himself drown in the space between sleep and consciousness. He would always remain suspended there, afraid to fall into the trappings of either. Cradled by soft pillows, it was so very, very easy to sink into oblivion. Instead, he fought against the drowsiness with all the willpower he could muster. He didn't want to close his eyes. He was afraid to close his eyes. Behind closed eyelids, he would see nothing but red. Eventually, the red would bleed into a sea of blood, where he would be left to drown.

By now, he was familiar with every part of his cage. The room was spacious but sparsely decorated—nothing impractical and everything sterile. It was almost completely cut off from outside except for a steel door on one side and a balcony on the other. Blinds were drawn aside to reveal the pair of glass doors that led out onto the balcony, letting the morning light steal into the otherwise lifeless room.

The sky outside was a beautiful shade of blue—exuding tranquility and jubilance. It was clear with the exception of pale wisps of white, the epitome of a perfect summer day. For all its beauty, it paled next to the wide feline eyes—twin pools of blue more stunning than any sapphire and purer than any glacier lake. But there was not light in those eyes now, only broken resignation. A perfect reflection of its surroundings. Dark laughter tumbled out of his throat as he gazed at the only view he had of the outside world. Once, he might have seen the beauty of the scene but now it was only dull and lifeless. Just like him.

How long had it been?

How many days had passed as he lied in this prison of stone and silence? How long since the last time he was free of hunger and pain? The days and weeks had blurred into meaningless flow of suffering and fear. There was no use in keeping track and Cloud gave up a long time ago. Time no longer touched him in its passing.

His arms trembled as he pushed himself into a sitting position and his pale lips stretched into a bitter smile. He had fallen far. He, who could take on the Great General of Shinra, was reduced to nothing but a trembling mess. Pathetic. Relegating the thought to the back of his mind, he forced the disused muscles in his legs to work. With some effort, he pulled his legs off the bed and planted them firmly onto the carpeted floor. The only article of clothing he had, a thin white robe, sagged slightly at his movements but he made no move to straighten it. Once again, his attention returned to the azure sky outside, forever out of his reach.

Humans always longed for wings to soar the sky.

He did too, once upon a time, before bitter experiences taught him his folly. Humans were so obsessed with the sky that they forgot that the higher they went, the longer the fall. Anyone who reached for the stars should be prepared to be burned to ashes. The price of wanting something unattainable. A price he was still paying to this day. His foolishness had cost him more than he could ever regain. He thought of his friends, people he had let down in the worst ways possible. Too many of them lost with the bloodstained sands of time while he watched helplessly on the sidelines. He had vowed to himself then—as long as he lived, he would never lose anyone again. Even if he had to become a monster, he would protect them all until his body fell apart.

But he couldn't even do that could he?

All the promises meant nothing if he didn't have the strength to keep them. He was weak. A failure in every way. His friends paid for his weakness, paid for their trust in him. He lived on as the light left their eyes. He was always the survivor. Perhaps it was fate's way of punishing him for his sins—a half-life burdened with guilt and regret. All his sacrifices amounted to nothing. They all died because he was a coward. He should have kept fighting. Should have done more…should have and didn't. Even if he didn't hold the blade, his hands were still tainted with their blood. Just one more crime on his sin ridden soul.

He didn't even have strength left to mourn.

He was tired—a bone deep weariness seeping through his body. It wasn't just his body, but also his soul that longed for rest. The fight had gone out of him years ago. Now, he was nothing more than a puppet for others' enjoyment. He had so much to atone for that the weight was crushing him. The ghosts haunted him and his broken mind held no solace. There was no salvation for him.

Could sins ever be forgiven?

Using a post for support, he stood up on unsteady legs. When was the last time he walked on these feet of his? After a few tries, he managed to take a few steps without falling flat on his face. His progress was slow but every step was filled with conviction. Staggering his way to the balcony, he slid open the glass door and leaned momentarily on the frame to take some weight off his feet. He didn't expect to be forgiven. His sins couldn't be forgiven. He would only be paying his due. Letting go off the frame, he stumbled across the span of the balcony to look over the edge. Sitting on the edge of a cliff, there was nothing below the mansion that was his prison but rocks and water. The cliff sloped down in a steep drop before meeting the roaring waves a few hundred feet below. The waves attacked the cliff side with unrelenting ferocity, seeking to bring down the unyielding stones. In true form of nature, it was a battle where the strongest would come out on top.

With stiff movements, he climbed over banister and stood on the edge of the balcony. Looking down, he could only see the white foams reaching heavenward as the waves crush against the rocks. The waves strained against its limits, daring anyone to brave its fury. He was glad to note that despite the mako in his body, surviving the fall to the raging water below was impossible. In his weakened state, he wouldn't stand a chance. If the fall didn't kill him, the water would surely drown him. Either way, he would end up dead. He could almost see the Lifestream calling him. The peace he wanted was within his grasp. Just one more step…

Then he was falling.

Cold wind bit into his skin as he plunged from the sky. His long blond hair danced wildly, creating a golden halo around him. He stared up at the sky as he fell. The vast expand of blue seemed as if it could be captured and held in one's hands. His gaze moved to the radiant sun that was almost the same shade as his hair. A chuckle escaped his lips only to be snatched away by the wind. His mother must be prescient to name him Cloud after all. The irony—both his name and coloring were of the sky, yet he was destined to fall short of heavens. As the wind whistled past his ears, he savored the illusion of flying. It was as close as he could get to freedom.

For the first time in years, he tasted the bittersweet flavor of freedom. Free from manipulations and lies. It was pitiful really that his freedom could only come in form of death. It didn't matter now. Everything would be over soon.

Pain.

The pain was violet and all-consuming. He was no stranger to it, bearing it without a sound. Pain was his constant companion and he took comfort in the fact that his suffering would end soon. The impact against the water could be felt through every part of his body. His brittle bones did little to break the fall. Agony overwhelmed him as he sank below the waves. Ribbons of light danced with the waves as he sank into the darkness, a pale imitation of the Lifestream. His broken body drifted slowly into the depth of the currents.

Closing his eyes, he let the world fade into black.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N :**Many thanks to those who reviewed/alerted/favorited this story. Your appreciation is my fuel. Another chapter! I am surprised of myself. But it's probably full of mistakes. Need a beta soon. Any volunteers?

**Title: **_Frozen Skies_**  
>Chapters:<strong> 2 of ?  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> Sephiroth/Cloud, Zack/Aerith, and others  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> AU, time travel, slash/yaoi, non-con/dub-con, and the rest...  
><strong>Summary:<strong> A hero was a broken man indeed. But even in death, Cloud could not escape. Send back in time by the Planet, he could not seat back and let history repeat itself.

**Disclaimer: **Owns nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Lifestream, the continuous stream of life and creation permeated every pore of the Planet, existing without constrains of time and space. Splendid to behold, the mythical flow of phantom essence was the conscious of the Planet and the resting place of souls. While its existence always bordered on fantasy, its secrets never ceased to fascinate the mortals. The Lifestream gave life and would eventually take every one of its creation back into its hold. In the folds of the swirling green, every creation was given a taste of the unattainable notion called peace. For as long as they stayed in the gentle current, no sadness could touch them and no suffering could harm them. It was as close to utopia as one could get. Eroded by millennium of knowledge, there wasn't a definition of self in the spring of spirits. There was only the voice of the collective, a single power that stood as the truth. The souls slumbered in the embrace of the Planet, swept along by the dreams of the collective.

Cloud floated in the world of no beginning and no end, letting waves of tranquil green wash over him. Tendrils of green danced about him as his clothing and hair moved to an invisible breeze. He felt no desire to move, uncaring of where the Lifestream would take him. He was finally at peace. No pain. No war. No heartbreak. The troubles of life no longer bothered him. Idling between the states of waking and sleeping, he gave himself over to the sensation of harmony.

_DEATH. DESTRUCTION._

His eyes snapped open as the Planet screamed into his head. He could feel the Gaia's energy rolling in turmoil, screaming messages without words. The collective swarmed around him, their pain reflected in turbulence. He felt the brief touch of the Planet in his mind before pictures of carnage filtered across his eye. Of the lands being destroyed. Of the world going up in flames. Of Sephiroth laughing with madness in his eyes. Each image overlapped with the next until he couldn't tell them apart. He tried to push the Planet away, to make her stop. No more. But the Planet continued on, imposing her will on him.

_CALAMITY. EVENTUAL DEATH._

Cloud paled as the Lifestream gyrated with increasing urgency as Gaia pulled on its power and shaped it into something else. Even among the confusion, the Planet's intent was clear.

"No." The word left his mouth before he registered what he said. This couldn't be happening. "No. You can't. What more do you want? I fought for you and I died for you. There's nothing left for you to take anymore!"

The Planet ignored his words as she continued towards her goal. While she was an eternal thing, she knew very little of humanity. Knowing nothing of loss and regrets, she couldn't understand the hero's suicide. Endless years of existence had not granted her understanding of humans.

_REBIRTH. _

"No! Leave me alone!" He couldn't do it. He was not strong enough to face his failures again. Faces of people he had failed, lead to their doom, flashed through his mind. People he couldn't protect, promises he couldn't keep.

"_Cloud…_"

"Aeris?" The voice was so achingly familiar. A sound that he had long associated with sunlight and flower fields. A voice he didn't want to hear again. The sheer goodness of it pierced his heart like a knife.

"_Cloud, I'm sorry._"

He shook his head in denial. They couldn't…They wouldn't…Anger. Sadness. Hurt. Despair. The emotions tangled in his body until he felt like he would explode from the intensity of them. He finally had peace and now they wanted to rip it away.

"_Forgive us._"

A new voice joined the others. Stronger, masculine, and all too familiar. His eyes burned with tears but Cloud didn't cry. He hadn't cried in a long time—after all a puppet had no need for tears. "Zack…"

_WEAPON. NECESSARY._

The Planet's voice hurt. Millions of minds pressed onto his own mind, telling him everything and nothing at the same time.

"No, don't leave me." He begged but received no reply from either the Planet or his friends. His broken pleads vanished in the vast emptiness of the Lifestream.

_DEATH. SURVIVAL. NECESSARY._ The Lifestream pulsed erratically as the Planet resumed her actions, tired of the interruption. Cloud wanted to scream his frustration at Gaia. How long must he suffer? How much more must he sacrifice? When would it be enough?

So this was the punishment for his failings. Not being able to rest. Not being able to rejoin his family. If so then he didn't have the right to complain. Cloud chuckled darkly before dissolving into harsh laughter. For him, free will was an illusion. He was nothing more than a tool. And he had long accepted his place in life.

_WEAPON. REBIRTH._

From all directions, the green tendrils of the Planet's lifeblood hurried towards a single point, towards Cloud. He made no move to fight it again. Let the Planet do what she wanted. He was her puppet and all of this no longer mattered to him. Let fate play with his life as she willed.

"_Forgive us._" The words were full of sadness. A plead.

"There's nothing to forgive," he whispered bleakly, resigned to his fate. He would never blame his friends. If anything, it was his fault. His decisions that doomed the world.

Time seemed to stop as the Lifestream narrowed down unto a single point. The stillness was eerie, almost as if it would hold for an eternity yet break in a heartbeat. He felt the Lifestream tremble and gave a final pulse of power. It seemed like an aeon before the Lifestream exploding into a shower of green. All the life and energy transformed into a final blaze of magic.

Cloud Strife merely closed his eyes as the Planet died.

* * *

><p>Nibelheim was situated so far in the north that there was nothing beyond it but mako reactor and wilderness. Due to its remoteness, the town was a world unto itself. With a population that reached a couple hundred at most, there was little privacy in the town. The residents strived on familiarity. Any difference was shunned and regarded with mistrust. It was a stagnant existence that denied any change.<p>

When the lone woman came into the town with the howling wind, all eyes turned to the outsider. Gossips about the beautiful but strange Eve Strife spread like wildfire, ignited by the fact that Strife arrived with a slumbering baby in her arms.

Alone, with a child, and no husband in sight—what a scandal.

Rumor after rumor concocted about Strife's background, escalating in the way only a small town could. The populace watched, talked, and when no new gossip was forthcoming, eventually moved onto the next rumor. But the whispers never quite died down and the Strife family would forever be the subject of gossips.

The talks among town folks did not go unnoticed by Eve Strife. Despite her demurred appearance, she was shrewd and observant. She did not harbor any delusions about her situation. She was alone in this town, a stranger in a foreign place. There were no friends to support her and no family to help her. All she had was Cloud—her precious child. She chose this isolated town for a reason and she wouldn't regret her decision. She would do everything she could for Cloud.

It didn't take long for Eve to settle into a cottage at the edge of the town, brought with the meager jewelries she had with her. In this town with only a midwife and no doctor, she made her ends met by selling herb medicines. It wasn't an easy life but she didn't mind. Whenever she could, she devoted her attention to child.

Every day, she thanked Gaia for giving her such a blessing. Cloud was an angel, complete with cherubic features and lovely smile. His bright blue eyes were almost identical like hers but his blond hair was many shades lighter and much spikier. Even at such a young age, he had an uncanny ability to understand the world around him. He often behaved as if he was an adult instead of a toddler. If Eve found it strange, she didn't find any cause for worry. As his mother, she would keep him out of harm's way.

But even a mother's love could not deter a fate that was written a lifetime ago.

* * *

><p>The first few years of Cloud's life passed in normalcy. Apart from high intelligence and maturity beyond his peers, he grew up like any child of his age. There was nothing to indicate that he was once the savior of the planet. With no apocalypse hanging over his head, he spent his childhood in relative peace.<p>

Until the year he turned seven.

The first he dreamed, it was of flashes of silver and wild flames. He woke up with tears in his eyes and vague impression of sadness and fear. Bewildered and confused, he sat on his bed crying, not knowing who or what he was mourning. As the first rays of light stole into his room, he fell back into an uneasy slumber.

The next morning, he greeted his mother like he always did and went on with his daily routine. There wasn't a whisper about realistic dreams or phantom emotions. Young he might be, Cloud was not ignorant. He was well aware that difference was something that was looked at with suspicion. Living under scrutiny of the town, he knew how people dealt with things they didn't understand. Humans were funny that way, rejecting all they couldn't grasp with their minds yet continuing with traditions that had long lost their meaning.

It wasn't that he didn't trust his mother, but he did not wish to worry her. Even at his age, he understood that she was struggling to raise him and it was unwise to add to her burden. Thus the dreams became his secret and his secret only.

Life went on for Cloud, with continuous dreams of that other place and time plaguing his sleep. The dreams were not always of carnage and destruction. Sometimes, he dreamed of people he called friends, of laughter and flower fields. But those visions were no less painful than the nightmares. The images of happiness only emphasized that he was very much alone . . . and if the visions were to be believed, reminders of his losses.

For the longest time, he didn't want to come to terms with the fact those dreams were real. He tried to pretend they were delusions made up by his mind, fearing what acceptance would bring. Those visions of world end, of darkness sweeping over the land. But deep down, he knew the truth and the fact that he couldn't run away forever.

In the end, he had no choice but to face the truth when the eyes staring back at him from the mirror were not his own. Gone were the baby blue orbs, in its place a pair of shinning turquoise eyes stared unblinkingly at its reflection.

Eyes tainted by mako, the hated liquid that brought only destruction to his life.

It was the final nail in the coffin of his normal life. His period of denial was over. The information that was crammed into his mind would not give him rest until he did something about it. His head was full of broken and incomplete memories battling for supremacy. Who was he? What was he?

His damaged mind provided no answers.

He only knew one thing with clear certainty. No matter what, failing again would be unacceptable. While he didn't have a choice in his destiny, he could choose his own path. This time he would save everyone.

Brows creasing in concentration, Cloud contemplated his options. His main concerns were to stop ShinRa and eliminate Jenova. With ShinRa and Hojo out of his reach at the moment, he needed to start with Jenova. He shivered as he recalled the silver-haired alien that bore a superficial resemblance to humans. Inside, she was anything but a mortal. She was CALAMITY. She was the virus that infected the Planet.

If Cloud wanted to save the Planet, he needed to get rid of her first.

Altering the future was a tricky thing. There were simply too many variables. If he changed one aspect of the future, he couldn't be sure that nothing else would change. Every action he made to change the future would have a snowball effect. He must make his decisions wisely. Besides, Jenova was damned tricky to kill. Every time he thought he got rid of her, she would appear to wreak havoc. No matter how many times her body was hacked to pieces, she always managed to survive.

He was too late to prevent Hojo from using her to make Sephiroth. But he still could prevent the destruction of Nibelheim…and maybe, just maybe, he could prevent Sephiroth's descend to madness. Without to pain and fear clouding his memories, Cloud reexamined his feeling about Sephiroth. His memories of the silver-haired warrior were full of anguish but Zack's memories…

The man Zack remembered was totally different from the maniac Cloud knew. Zack had being the ex-General's friend—one of the three who could claim that title. Cloud could not remember much about the other two, only that they left ShinRa and Sephiroth. While the man was known was the Demon of Wutai, he was as human as anyone. Albeit very lacking in the social department, Sephiroth was no monster. Unlike many people in ShinRa, he cared about his SOLDIERs. He was always the first onto the battle field and the last to leave it. While he was cold to everyone, he treated his men with fairness and consideration.

Cloud couldn't reconcile the silent but honorable General with the monster that ravaged his life. The hero had killed the One-Winged Angel repeatedly and the one time he didn't…it became his hell. Possessing only pieces of memories, he couldn't tell with version of the warrior was the real one.

Looking at the memories, he realized that Sephiroth, for all of his talk of godhood, was a puppet just like Cloud. The silver-haired man had being born to be used by ShinRa. When he finally broke free from ShinRa, he fell under the control of Jenova. Sephiroth chased after freedom, but like Cloud, was forever falling short of it. If Sephiroth was a monster, Cloud just was as much of an abomination.

No, Cloud didn't hate Sephiroth. He probably never did. Every time he took his blade and stabbed it through the ex-General's body, he only felt guilt and regret. He was nothing compared to Sephiroth. He was a nobody before falling under Hojo's experiments. Only Zack's skills and Hojo's alterations allowed him to defeat Sephiroth the first few times. He could never have won by his own merit, let alone becoming the One-Winged Angel's equal.

Silently, Cloud made an oath to himself. He would save Sephiroth from himself. What the Planet said about the Silver Threat didn't matter to him. He couldn't, wouldn't, fight Sephiroth again. The ex-General deserved some happiness for what the world had put him through. Even if Cloud would never be able to find joy in this world, he could at least let others experience it. For Zack, Aeris, Sephiroth, and the others, he couldn't fail this time.

He would give everything he had to save the Planet.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Many thanks to those who reviewed. I will try my best to reply to them when I get the chance. Well…this chapter is more or less a surprise. I totally should be working on homework. But whatever. Still looking for a beta. Help me?

**Title:** _Frozen Skies_**  
>Chapters:<strong> 3 of ?  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> Sephiroth/Cloud, Zack/Aerith, and others  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> AU, time travel, slash/yaoi, non-con/dub-con, and the rest...  
><strong>Summary:<strong> A hero was a broken man indeed. But even in death, Cloud could not escape. Send back in time by the Planet, he could not seat back and let history repeat itself.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned FF7 then it would be yaoi…

* * *

><p>Soft whimpers escaped through parted lips as the golden-haired child tossed and turned in his bed. As he fought furiously with his blankets, his youthful twisted into a frown. He looked as if he was fighting a demon…and perhaps he was.<p>

_Silver hair, flowing down like a frozen waterfall, brushed his skin as mako-green eyes glinted maliciously above him, seemingly amused by his futile struggles. _

_Fear._

_He tried to move but found that he couldn't. His body refused to obey him as if he was bound by invisible restrains. He was caught, a prey in the jaws of a predator. _

_Pain._

_His body burned with agony. He vaguely wondered how much pain the human body could endure before it gave up. A scream built up in his throat but he lacked the voice to give it life. His body had betrayed him long before his voice did. He was but a prisoner in his own body._

_Triumph shone through the silted green eyes as their owner saw his resignation. A leather clothed hand reached to capture a lock of blond hair. He suppressed __a__ flinch. The hand that was innocently playing with his tresses now, could easily deliver unimaginable pain. Closing his eyes, he reluctantly relaxed under the touch._

"_Ready to obey now, puppet?"_

_Glimmering blue eyes opened slowly but their owner remained silent. His captor seemed to find acquiescence in his silence. _

"_Good, we have a long day ahead of us." The smile was anything but comforting, holding only promises of suffering._

_The once savior of the Planet only stared blankly and motionlessly at the emerald eyes that shone the same way his did. He didn't __bother to __pray for mercy because he would receive none. The deities had long abandoned him__…__if they were ever with him. He could only close his mind and surrender his body to his tormentor._

Cloud wake up with a scream frozen on his lips and sweat beading his forehead. With his heart beating an erratic tempo, he took a moment to get his body back under control and untangle himself from the quilts. Limbs still trembling faintly, he climbed off the bed and staggered into the bathroom. He splashed cold water unto his face and braced his arms against the sink. Brushing a hand through his untameable locks, he lifted his head to glace at the mirror.

He looked awful.

Almost as bad as he felt. Peering closer at his reflection, he saw the blue eyes and blond hair that simply refused to cooperate like he always did. His eyes were still too big and his skin still too pale. With a face rounded by baby fat and features that were soft and delicate, there was nothing masculine about him. But his feminine appearance was least of his worries now.

Focusing his attention on his eyes, he saw the telltale glow in his aquamarine orbs. Mako shine. Every day, his eyes became closer to what the other Cloud had, and less like his own. Jaded. Weary. Broken. Sometimes, he felt that he was losing parts of himself to the memories. But as his logic reminded himself, he and the other Cloud were the same person. The memories were as much a part of the savior as it was of him.

He didn't know when the changes started only that they did. He would suddenly know which plants were edible and whatnot, which metals would make the best blades, or what was the best way to slay a dragon. A great deal information poured into his mind smoothly and quietly that he almost did notice. They came naturally, as if they were always a part of him, slipping into his thoughts and actions as easily as breathing. But the changes were not strictly mental. His body had changed slowly but surely. While his build was still slim and frail, his reflexes were faster and even his endurance improved. His senses were sharper, detailing him with all sorts of things he failed to notice before. He could separate the individual seasonings in his mother's dishes, count every feather of the birds flying overhead, and hear all the different noises made by the animals in the mountains.

When his eyes first glimmered with mako, it was faint and would eventually fade away. But now, the green swirled with the blue of his eyes and stayed there, shining like two beacons of light. With every memory that stole into his dreams, his eyes glowed continuously brighter with mako. He didn't need Hojo to know that his mako levels were already off the chart.

Whether this development was a blessing or a curse he couldn't tell but he knew that it would be important in the future. This time, he didn't throw a tantrum over Gaia's meddling. As much as he hated the mako in his blood, he knew that it was unavoidable. He needed the boost mako gave him and he wasn't sure that he want to lose another five years under Hojo. If the price for this power was _his_ own future, he would gladly pay it.

He would play savior for Gaia even if it killed him.

* * *

><p>Standing in the dust-covered front hall, Cloud surveyed the hated but familiar sight of the ShinRa mansion. He couldn't suppress a shiver as he made his way across the creaky floor boards of the place that was arguably the start of all the madness.<p>

The birth place of a destroyer named Sephiroth.

The grave of a boy who was simply Cloud.

The resting place of a slumbering Vincent Valentine.

Cloud shook his head to clear away the memories. So many half remembered recollections of this place and none of them were good. He curled his shoulders forward slightly as he shrunk into himself. Even though he was not prepared for the sheer impact of the memories of the mansion, he had not forgotten about his mission.

Quietly and cautiously, he made his way to the basement of the mansion. Before he reached his destination, he was ambushed just as he expected. Several skeletal monsters, remnants of Hojo's experiments, cut off his path before lunging at him. Pulling out one of the knives he smuggled out of the kitchen, he struck back. By the time the last monster fell to the ground dead, Cloud was supporting a couple of deep scratches. Nothing he couldn't heal but he worried about explaining the ragged state of his clothing to his mother.

While he knew how to fight, he did not have the necessary conditioning to use the attacks he remembered. His body simply couldn't perform on part with the mako-infused one. Making a mental note to train more, Cloud pushed open the door to Vincent's tomb. Ignoring the other coffins in the basement, he narrowed in on the one that held Vincent. Well, at least the one he believed to be Vincent's. He could never be certain with his jumbled memory. Nevertheless, he grabbed the edge of the coffin lid and lifted it up to reveal its occupant. His tensed muscles relaxed slightly as the coffin indeed contain his former (or future) friend.

Vincent looked just like he had before: pale skin, long black hair, and crimson cap. His gauntlet was folded across his chest and his human hand was resting on top of it. He looked well for someone who had being sleeping for almost two decades.

"Who are you?" Cloud found himself staring at crimson eyes for a moment before the red shifted to gold.

"Hello Chaos," Cloud greeted the dominant demon sealed inside Vincent. He was inwardly thankful to note that the only differences between Vincent and Chaos at the moment were the eyes, darker skin, and elongated nails and canines. He had being prepared but not looking forward to meet Chaos in his full glory. No one wanted to be close to an angry, sealed demon that just got out of his confinement.

Chaos sat up in the coffin and tilted his head to the side as he studied Cloud. "You looked human but you smell too much of the Lifestream. What are you?"

Cloud shrugged, not bothering with an explanation. Instead, he replied with a question of his own. "Do you know what you are?"

Amusement flashed in the golden eyes. "So what do you want, not-so-mortal boy?"

"I want to talk to your host."

Chaos raised an eyebrow. "He might not listen."

"He will." Cloud smiled. "He can't sleep forever."

Chaos scrutinized him closely for a moment before sighing. "As you wish." The demon closed his unnerving eyes and reopened them to reveal sanguine irises. Vincent Valentine started at Cloud for a few silent moments before reaching for the coffin lid. If the ex-Turk was surprised by the blonde's presence, he hid it well.

"Leave."

Cloud grabbed the coffin lid before Vincent could close himself back into the coffin. He stared unflinchingly back at the gunman as Vincent glowered at him. "I will leave after you listened to what I have to say."

When he saw that the blonde would not be scared away, Vincent gave in with an inaudible sigh. "Talk."

Hiding a smile, Cloud kept his face impassive. Trust Vincent to give one word sentences. He didn't exactly have a speech planned out for the ex-Turk but he did have a sense of what to say. He and Vincent might not have being close but they understood each other. Out of every member of AVALANCHE, he was the closest to Vincent and vice versa—close enough to know what make the immortal tick at least. But what came out of his mouth next surprised even him.

"Lucrecia's son is alive."

Vincent's usual emotionless facade crumbled and his eyes widened marginally in shock. "What did you say?"

Cloud let a tiny, wiry smile pass his blank mask. He got Vincent's attention now. "Hojo lied. Lucrecia survived long enough to give birth to her child. He was experimented on as soon as Hojo got his hands on Sephiroth—or rather, he was experimented on before he was even born." Taking a breath, he continued before Vincent could cut him off. Knowing the ex-Turk, he needed to say as much as he could before he was interrupted. "Sephiroth is nineteen now and a SOLDIER First. Hojo had being experimenting on him all his life. It had gone on for far too long. And I intent to put a stop to it. But I am only a child now, far too small to do anything like taking on ShinRa. So I need your help to end his nightmare."

Vincent's eyebrows drew together as he processed the information. "Why should I believe you? You could be one of ShinRa's dogs for all I know," he asked, suspicion dripping from his words. However he had expected to be woken up, he hadn't expect his awakening to be brought about by a blonde child whose appearance was very deceiving. "How old are you? Five? What would you know of ShinRa and Hojo?"

"I know more than I should," Cloud said, "I know your name is Valentine Vincent and you were a Turk. Your father, Grimiore Valentine, was involved in the Chaos Experiment as well as Dr. Lucrecia Crescent, producing you as the final result of the experiment after Hojo shot you. You loved Lucrecia and Hojo shot you over an argument over experimentation. You are dead in the eyes of ShinRa, which, by the way, is a very good thing."

Vincent rose from the coffin, a menacing form of red and black. Red eyes pinned their full intensity on Cloud. "What are you?" Fangs peeked out from the curled top lip as Vincent unknowingly echoed Chaos' words.

Cloud shrugged. Even he had no idea what he was. A child with the memories of an adult or an adult in the body of a child? An experiment? A warrior? A failure? Once he had known the answer, but now he wasn't sure that he was human anymore. But he did know one thing. He was what the Planet wanted him to be. "A catalyst."

Silence fell in the room like a veil as the child and the ex-Turk stared unblinkingly at each other. Cloud met Vincent's scrutinizing gaze without flinching. Vincent's frown deepened, confusion evident in his expression. Cloud must admit that this probably seemed ridiculous from the ex-Turk's point of view. Who would expect to be woken up after almost twenty years of sleep by an eight years old who listed of facts of his life like a dry textbook. But the fact still stand that the said child had gotten into the monster infested ShinRa mansion with nothing more than kitchen knives.

Cloud knew the exact moment Vincent had reached a decision. His past memories provided him a lot of knowledge about the gunman. Out of everyone in their little group, he was the closest to Vincent. Probably, it was due to the fact that they understood each other—the guilt, the regret, the sin. They had never exchanged more than a few words but they didn't need to. Cloud had gotten used to noticing fleeting verbal cues from the silent ex-Turk.

"Tell me about Sephiroth," Vincent demanded.

* * *

><p>An hour or so later, Vincent was leaning against the window, gazing out into the wilderness and contemplating about the oddity that was life. He had listened to the child's, Cloud's, story, told like facts read off a list as they sat on the dusty floor of the library, where the boy pulled out files from manila folders to back his words. Vincent didn't say a thing, or give a clue to what he was thinking, as the child recited the tale with the emotion range of a robot. But he knew, without asking, that the story had affected Cloud more than the child let on. The blond boy only gave the minimum amount of detail and omitted most of the events. The important facts were all there so Vincent didn't pursue the blanks in the story. The not-child had his reason for the omissions.<p>

While Cloud was talking, Vincent had observed the boy with keen eyes horned through years as a Turk. He had being trained to notice and remember things no matter how insubstantial and useless they seemed. All his senses told him that Cloud was telling the truth. There was no inconsistency in the boy's body language that gave away a lie. The blond had an expressionless mask that rivaled his own but Cloud only hesitated when he was omitting something.

It was those blue eyes cemented Cloud's claims. Those eyes were not eyes of a child. They were that of a hardened warrior. Eyes of a jaded victim of life. Full of pain. Full of guilt.

After finishing his tale, Cloud excused himself to return to him home, leaving Vincent with a pile of files on Sephiroth, Lucrecia, and Jenova. He had promised to come back in two days to hear Vincent's decision. Vincent had watched him tread across the snow covered plain and disappear out of view.

For the first time in many years, Vincent didn't know what to make of his emotions. Turk had taught him to be a master of his emotions but all the training was forgotten as he examined the story in details. Cloud had left him with much to think about. Events where he was just as much at fault as the ones who made Sephiroth the destroyer.

He had slept for so long to pay for his sin, completely unaware that Lucrecia's child was alive and in the clutches of Hojo. The knowledge weighed on him, another sin on his shoulders.

He couldn't do anything about the past. Lucrecia was dead and buried. But Sephiroth was alive. Living with the horror that was Hojo, subjected to countless experiments. In the end, he couldn't be a coward and pretend ignorance. He would help Cloud to taken on ShinRa and bring down Hojo.

He owed Sephiroth at least that much.

Pushing away from the window, he picked up a folder and flipped it open to a file about Specimen S. On the left corner, clipped to the file, was a grainy picture of a silver-haired boy, staring at Vincent with cold, mako-green eyes.

"Sephiroth," Vincent whispered, tasting the name on his tongue.

_My son._


End file.
